


spreading you open is the only way of knowing you

by peachykeenjellybean



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cockwarming, Cowgirl Position, Dry Humping, Exhibitionism, F/M, Library Sex, Making Out, Museums, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rey in a tennis skirt, Riding, Vaginal Fingering, jessa finally wrote cowgirl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26398420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachykeenjellybean/pseuds/peachykeenjellybean
Summary: Rey likes to ride Ben in semi-public places. And so does Ben.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 31
Kudos: 341





	1. the bookstore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madsaialik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsaialik/gifts).



> sooooooo i finally wrote a cowgirl fic everyone say thank you mads for the idea (also thank you mads for being the best ily)
> 
> also ~making out~ in a bookstore is such a fantasy goodbye
> 
> thank you [ Soph ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arroways/pseuds/arroways) for being the best damn beta reader

Ben notices her the first time she walks in. A short white linen dress that hits just at the middle of her thigh and sways as she walks in. There are little beads of glistening sweat on her forehead as she fans herself when she walks in the door, feeling that rush of AC. 

As hot as it gets, she never puts her hair up. She’s always wearing it down, the length of it hitting right below her shoulders. Ben thinks about how wet the hair on her forehead and at the nape of her neck must be. She slowly walks up and down the aisles, picking up random books, reading the dust jacket, and putting it back on the shelf in the wrong spot so Ben would have to go back and fix it later after she left. 

They have a little game. She buys a book or two — once it was collection of Sylvia Plath’s poems, another time it was a book on gardening and Victorian botany, then it was  _ The Princess Bride  _ by William Goldman, the last time it was  _ Carrie  _ by Stephen King — and then she walks out of the store, turning around only slightly to wink at Ben over her shoulder, before opening the door and stepping back out into the hot city. 

As soon as she’s out of sight of the large bookstore windows, Ben runs over to the books that she’s left in the wrong spots and fixes them. He holds them in his hands for a moment and thinks about her small hands holding it. 

Today, she buys a few $1 historical romance novels they keep on a shelf by the window. Ben watches her from behind a stack of books as she bends over at the waist in her little pleated white tennis skirt. She’s dressed for the weather — it’s a little unseasonably warm for the fall — and he can see the sweat lingering just above her tank top. His breath hitches when she moves to the last shelf that’s almost on the floor, and he sees her panties. Her perfectly tight ass wrapped in a baby pink cotton bikini. He turns when she snaps up with a book in hand, pretending to reorganize the books in the stack. His hands work anxiously, thinking about long, tan legs in that skirt and those panties. 

He hears a little voice behind him as he’s trying to keep his mind occupied, stacking and dusting random books. 

“I’m ready to check out,” she says as he turns to face her. 

Her hair is still down today but she has half of it pulled up out of her face. Little wispy pieces fall and blow slightly under the AC. Her cheeks are stained pink, the same pink stain as her lips. Her hazel eyes look over Ben as he just stares at her for a moment, taking her all in. He must look flushed. He blinks, then nods and walks over to the register. 

He types in the $1 price of each of the trashy romance novels, the keys of the register clack as he hears her grab a Blow Pop from the clear plastic bin in front of the register and start to unwrap it. He doesn’t even add it to her total. He just watches her as she shoves it in her mouth and swirls her tongue around it. 

Her tongue turns a deeper red from the artificial coloring of the lollipop. He hears the wet sounds she makes as she savors it and makes it melt inside of her mouth. Ben feels his mouth open a bit, instinctively, as he watches her lick the lollipop, but only slightly. He can feel his cock start to harden as he watches her. Maybe that’s what she’d look like with her wet and pink mouth around him. 

The whole time she keeps eye contact with him, even as she fishes a $5 bill out of her bag and hands it to him to pay for the novels. He places the books in a brown paper bag and passes it to her. Their hands touch when she grabs the bag. Her hand is smooth under his and he wants to keep it there, he wants to feel her soft skin under his just like that even if for only fleeting moments. 

“Thanks, Ben,” she says softly, looking down at his nametag. He smiles at the mention of his names coming off of her wet, sticky lollipop lips. He’s thanking all the higher powers that she can’t see how hard he’s gotten just from watching her suck. 

The  _ ideas _ he’s getting in his head. 

“Always a pleasure,” and he stops, ready to say her name but he doesn’t know it. 

“Rey,” she offers. 

“Rey,” he echoes.

She walks backwards to the door with the lollipop still in her mouth. “I’ll see you later, Ben,” she says, winking, and then turns, heading out the door. 

Today, for their little game, she picked up  _ Fifty Shades of Grey  _ and moved it over to the lifestyle section. Ben let out a little huff of a laugh as he moved it back. 

Hours after the book is back in the right spot, Ben glances down at his silver watch. It’s almost closing time. There’s no one in the store, there usually never is at this time of night. 

Outside, the autumn sun is still hanging low in the sky but will be setting soon. The blue is starting to fade slightly into shades of pink and orange, illuminating the shop in a warm glow. 

Ben is looking over the books from the day, leaning over the counter with his eyes fixed down, when he hears the bell above the door chime and light, barely there, footsteps. 

“Sorry, we just closed, you can come back tomorrow,” he says without looking up. Whoever walks in doesn’t move, but they plant themselves right in front of him. 

He gasps low when he lifts his head and he sees Rey. 

“I can come back tomorrow, if you want me to,” she says as she moves a piece of hair behind her ear. She’s taken her hair down completely, now. All of it frames her face and hits her collarbone above her white tank top. 

Ben sits up, no longer leaning on the counter. “No, no, no, it’s fine, you’re fine. Can I help you with something?” His eyebrows come together when he asks her, his eyes wide and hopeful. He so eagerly wants to help her with something. He forgets about closing, forgets about the leftovers he was already thinking about having for dinner when he gets home later. 

She smiles as he speaks. 

“Yes, you can help me with something,” Rey murmurs, looking around the store for a moment, searching Ben’s face, coming up with a reason for being here, other than him, “I’m looking for a copy of  _ Lord of the Rings _ .” 

“ _ Lord of the Rings _ ?”

“Yes,” Rey starts to walk up to the counter, her tennis skirt bouncing as she turns around the corner. She’s doing it on purpose, she wants Ben to notice. The corners of her mouth turn up when she notices that it’s working. He gulps. 

“We may have a copy in the fantasy section,” he says, stumbling slightly on his words and he starts to move for her to follow him down the aisle of shelves. 

He walks slow. He can feel her behind him, looking at his shoulder blades and his back under his black t-shirt. Ben stops abruptly when they reach the fantasy shelf at the back of the store. Rey, not paying attention, falls into him and places her hands on his shoulders to catch herself. 

“Sorry, I was uh — looking at my feet.”

She sounds anxious, Ben’s never heard her sound anxious before. Then again, he’s really never spoken to her before. Before today. Before now. 

Her hands are still lightly on his shoulders as she looks up at him and he immediately looks over to the shelf. He bites his lip as he scans over it. The dim fluorescent light over head buzzes and paints both of them in an odd white light. 

“Hmmmm, looks like we actually don’t have any copies of it,” he turns to look back at her, expecting a pout or something from the lack of the book she needs but instead her eyes look dark as she stares back at him. Her hands on his shoulders press harder. 

“That’s alright, I’ll just come back whenever you have it in stock. You’ll let me know when you have it back in stock, right, Ben?” Her voice goes a little higher when she asks, he nods and breathes out of his mouth. Her face is so close. She’s moved it closer and closer and closer to him as they’ve been standing here. He hadn’t even noticed her moving closer to him as he was turned away, looking at the shelf. 

“Of course,” his voice is hoarse. The air is suddenly so crisp from the AC that it makes his throat dry. Or maybe it’s her and how close she is to him. He can smell her perfume. Sweet, sweet floral and delicious vanilla hints mixed with a little of that sweat that’s been dripping off of her all day from the heat of the sun.

He wants to lick her. He wants to take her face in his hands, cup her cheeks, and lick hot stripes along the slick planes of her neck. 

“Do you need my number?” She’s whispering now.

“Your number?” 

“So you can call me when the book is in.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he says. 

Neither of them move. They both linger there in between the bookshelves. It’s almost like they’re the only people in the world. The world could be ending outside, crumbling all around them, all they’ve ever known gone, and they’d be the only ones left alive in this bookstore between these two shelves. 

They both stand still. 

\----

Rey’s gaze moves all over Ben’s face. She meets his gaze, then she looks at his lips, at his cheeks, his jawline, his nose. She looks down to the slope of his neck, where his collarbones are only slightly uncovered by the crew neck of his t-shirt. 

She’s thought about him and all of his features at night or in the morning or even in the middle of the day when she moves her hand down into her panties to get herself off. She rubs at her clit, spreading her wetness around, making herself come to the thought of what he’d smell like if he was this close to her, what he’d feel like with his hands on her. 

Coming to only the thought of him is never enough, though. She’s always left somehow feeling even  _ hungrier.  _ After visiting the bookstore earlier, she had to run home and pull down her panties, still remembering the feeling of his hand brushing against hers.

But it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. She huffed and sighed and threw herself on her bed. She stood up and felt determined as she marched back to the bookstore, hiking up her skirt a little higher as she walked in.

And now she can smell him. Deep, evergreen and pine, musk, sweet cinnamon. She can practically taste him under her tongue.

She licks her lips and breathes then moves. She breaks the tension when her lips are on his. His plush, plush lips that she’s been dreaming about since the day she first wandered into this bookstore trying to kill time between classes one day. 

They stay like that, with their lips connected and pushing against each other. He wraps his hands tight around her waist and she has hers cupping his cheeks, pulling him down to her. 

\----

Then it’s Ben that moves this time. He moves his tongue inside of her mouth. First just teasing at the seam of her lips on his and then pressing further inside until he’s tasting her. She’s almost as sweet as the perfume. A hint of pumpkin coffee and the slight whisper of sweet mint gum. He wants to eat her up. When she lets his tongue in, he really leans into the kiss. 

He pushes her back against one of the bookshelves, neither of them looking to make sure it won’t fall over (it was up against a wall, thank God). Her hands find their way into his hair, pulling and twirling the dark, dark tendrils in her black painted fingernails. He groans into her mouth as she pulls lightly. 

She has one leg wrapped around his waist as they make out. Her back arches off of the bookshelf, she can feel the wooden shelves digging into her shoulders and her lower back. When she arches, Ben moves his hands behind her, feeling her hot skin underneath her tank top. 

His hand moves lower, over and underneath her thigh, and then settles in between her legs where those pink cotton bikini panties she’s been wearing are already soaked from the few minutes they’ve been standing here. 

She nods slowly against him, giving him permission, and he moves his fingers slowly over the damp patch. She bites his lip. He runs his fingers up and down and up and down the spot, just teasing her. He smiles against her lips, he loves this. He’s been dreaming about this girl with his dick in his fist for weeks and now, he finally has her against a bookshelf, wet and pliable in his hands. 

Ben’s done teasing as he moves his hands off of the wet fabric and deftly traces over the elastic band of her panties before diving in and running his long middle finger through her wet folds. When his finger makes contact with her, she jumps in his grip. 

He starts kissing her neck. His tongue darts out to lick the little sweat he thought about before. She’s so sweet, every little part of her and he can’t get enough. He bets other parts of her are even sweeter. Like the part of her that’s currently fucking herself on his hand in he panties. He’ll try that next time. His cock gets even harder just thinking about having his head between her thighs. 

When he adds the first finger, she throws her head on his shoulder as he nibbles at her neck. When he adds the second finger, she bites into the black fabric of his t-shirt, probably leaving a damp spot and teeth marks on him. 

\----

The two fingers and the way the heel of his palm hit her clit make her want to wrap herself around him even more. The one leg she has planted on the ground is shaking. She’s so unstable but he’s holding onto her and he won’t let go — she knows that. 

_ “Ben, yes, yes, fuck, right- right- there- oh my god, you- your- hands, fuck, fuck, fuck!”  _

_ “Are you going to come on my fingers, sweetheart, come for me, come for me.” _

Then she feels it. That feeling starts to build right there deep in her belly. And then suddenly, and all at once, it hits her and she throws her head back, hitting the shelf, as she comes, rocking herself on Ben’s thick fingers that fill her so well. She’ll never be able to finger herself again. 

“Such a good girl, Rey, coming on my fingers like that,” he says against her neck, “that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I want you to do it again and again and again.” 

She’s preening under his touch. “I want you to make me come.” 

He takes his fingers out of her and she can hear the sound of her slick and swollen cunt under his touch. He still holds his palm on her mound as she comes down from her high. He sucks at her neck, leaving a mark for her to see in the mirror later to remember him, and then he moves back to her lips that he’s missed kissing in the few minutes he hasn’t been. 

Their kisses are slow this time. Less desperate. More full of longing. As if they have all the time in the world. Back to the feeling that they’re the only two people left on this decimated planet. 

Rey can feel how hard he is as she presses her body into him. She moves one hand down from his shoulder and snakes it over his tight abs on his stomach (which she’ll have to really look at later) and settles herself on the crotch of his jeans. He’s  _ pushing  _ against the seam and he groans when she grabs his length in her small hand even though his jeans. She palms at his erection and he exhales against her lips. She’s still pressed against the bookcase and he has one hand outstretched, leaning on the shelf and the other is settled on her waist, holding her tight to him. 

She starts to undo his jeans with one hand. Her hand shakes, it’s difficult. She looks down and then uses both hands and she’s able to unbutton and unzip his jeans fast but not fast enough. He lets her pull his jeans down and they fall to around his ankles. She keeps his boxer briefs on for now but she can see the way his thick cock tents the front of them and her mouth starts to water. 

_ Next time, Rey,  _ she tells herself. She wants his cock in her mouth but she’ll have to wait until next time because she desperately needs his cock somewhere else right now. 

She pushes away from him, breaking the kiss, and smirks, breathing and squirming as she fixes herself, still pressed against the bookshelf. Ben steps back. His lips are red and swollen and wet. Rey looks around them, then she sees it. A bookshelf ladder. One with a perfect long step that will be a perfect seat. Rey bites her lip and pushes Ben down to sit on the ladder. 

He grabs her by the hips as she stands in front of him. She pulls his shirt over his head so he’s sitting on this ladder in only his briefs. His chest,  _ fuck.  _ She wants to lay on it and kiss it and mouth at it and rub herself all over it. She can’t take her eyes off of it. “Hey,” he says as he starts to grab the hem of her tank top, snapping her out of her daze, “it’s only fair.” She licks her bottom lip as he starts to pull it over her head. 

When it’s off, she looks down to see his hands on her immediately.  _ Good idea not wearing a bra today,  _ she thinks to herself. 

  
  


Ben buries himself in her chest. He mouths at her tits. He takes his time on one, sucking her nipple into his mouth and swirling it around his tongue, leaving it a little wet as he moves to the other while still playing with the one he just had in his mouth. His hands hold her steady as he sucks. 

His hands are so large they spread across most of her back, fully holding her in his grip. He leaves little bruises all over her tits. So that she can remember him and how he gave them to her. So that she can look at herself in the mirror later before she gets in the shower and feel that heat start again in between her legs. 

She pulls him off of her tits and stares at him as she slowly but still so frantically pulls her panties down her thighs and over her knees and calves until they hit the old carpeted floor and she walks over to him and moves down to kiss him, hungrily this time. She can taste her sweat in his mouth. 

She leaves the tennis skirt on. Just the tennis skirt. 

Then she crawls onto his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. She’s spread wide open for him. Her open and wet pussy spreading her arousal over the cotton of his briefs. She reaches down and dips down into his briefs and holds her cock in her hands. This is different than when she was just holding him through his jeans. He’s hot and she can feel the little beads of precome as she runs her thumb over the tip and he shudders under her. 

She pulls his cock out of his boxers but then he stops her with his hand on her wrist. 

“I don’t have any condoms.”

She laughs, just for a moment, “Ben, it’s okay, I’m on the pill, and I’ve been tested.” 

He looks stunned for a minute. “Me- me too, you want me to raw you?”

“Oh, Ben,” she groans as he talks and she teases his cock with her entrance, “please raw me.”

She lowers herself down onto him slowly, then all at once. She gasps loudly and high once he’s inside of her.

She grabs onto his shoulders, looking for some leverage. She can’t breath. His thick cock impaling her for a moment took the breath out of her lungs. They haven’t even moved yet and she’s already trying to breathe. 

Ben sits beneath her, curtained by her hair. She moves one hand to his face, tracing the lines along his jaw and his nose, the curl of his lips and his cupid’s bow. She smiles down at him. The pain and the stretch from his cock in her pussy feels so good now. 

“Are you okay?”

“Never felt better.” 

Then she starts to move. She moves at a languid pace at first. Fully feeling him hit every single inch inside of her. She’s riding him at her own pace. She’s in charge and he’s willing to succumb. His hands are stuck on her hips, holding her down in place on top of his hard cock. 

He looks up at her as she rides him and it sends little sparks and frills down her spine and through her limbs. She feels herself get wetter and wetter as she looks at him. 

\----

Ben’s never seen a more beautiful sight. The sunset outside is making the store turn into washes of burnt orange and pink, making Rey’s skin tone look even warmer than it already is. She’s glowing as she rides him. 

He’s thought about this. He’s thought about taking her in the back of the store. He’s thought about having her against the shelves, maybe bending her over the desk in the back as he fucks her quick. But he’s never thought about having her like this. Her on top of him as she rides him, split and spread wide open on his cock. 

This. This is even better than anything he could’ve thought about. 

He wants to see her come again. He wants to feel her come again but this time on him.  _ God,  _ the way she sounded when she came on his fingers before was the hottest thing he’s ever heard. He wants it to play on a loop in his head forever. 

He moves his hand down to where they meet, flipping the hem of her tennis skirt up a little so that he can see her, and he starts to thumb at her clit. He’s soft at first. Little, little flicks. She moans as he does and he feels her gush and contract around his cock. 

“I want you to come again, sweetheart, I want you to come on my cock.”

She starts to roll her hips faster. Faster, faster, faster. She feels so good, clenching around him. He feels so good, so deep inside of her. 

“Ben, you make me feel so full — ” she’s cut off by a jolt. 

“You’re so full of my cock,” he pants, “my thick, hard cock.” 

“ _ Yes, yes, yes,”  _ she pants. One of her hands digs into his shoulders, leaving little half-moons on his freckled skin, and the other finds its way back into his long, dark hair and she pulls. 

One of Ben’s hands moves to the back of her neck. The nape of her neck is damp with sweat, making the roots of her hair there damp too. He holds her head up, making her keep eye contact with him. 

He can feel how close she is. He can feel it in the way her pussy clenches around him. Her hips are moving more erratically, less of a certain rhythm. 

“Such a good, good, good girl, Rey,” he coos. 

And then with another flick to her clit and the way his cock hits inside of her  _ just  _ right, she’s seeing a rainbow of warm colors behind her eyelids as she’s coming  _ hard.  _

She whines as she rides out her orgasm on him. 

“ _ I’m gonna come.” _

_ “Come, Ben, please come,” she begs.  _

Then Ben comes because she begs him and asks so nicely. The aftershocks of her tight pussy tightening around his cock is what really sends him over the edge. He holds onto her hips as he does. Another spot where she’s going to have bruises later. 

He doesn’t pull out of her right away and she doesn’t move from her seat on his warm cock. 

He’s so content here, with her in his lap, her head resting on his shoulder, her nose tickling right underneath his ear. 

She’s running her finger tips over his bare collarbones as he holds her and his thumb draws little circles on her ass when they hear the front door of the shop start to creep open and the high chime of the bell. 

Thankfully, they’re nestled into a farther corner of the bookstore where no one can see them and they can’t see anyone. 

“We’re closed!” They yell in unison and they look at each other and giggle. 

“Oh! My mistake, sorry!” A voice says from the front and then they hear the door shut. 

Maybe they should’ve locked the door first. 


	2. the library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey distracts Ben in the library during finals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehe check the new tags

Finals are really fucking Rey hard this year. And when she thinks that, she can hear Ben in her head saying,  _ But I fuck you harder, don’t I,  _ with a teasing smirk. 

She blushes at the thought. 

Ever since their little tryst in the bookstore, they haven’t been able to keep their hands off of each other. Months have gone by but each moment still feels like that first one. Gasps and moans and groans as they hold each other in bed or on the couch or on the kitchen island of his studio apartment. 

Even when they’re in public. He keeps his arm around her, holding her, slightly touching her, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip or her cheeks. She keeps her hand on his knee or on his thigh when they’re out to dinner with friends. She always hopes he gets a crumb or something on the corner of his mouth so that she can wipe it off with her thumb. 

If they were alone, she’d lick it off. 

When she’s in class, Ben sends her texts, thinking about her. Sometimes little teases of his cock or the fresh pasta that he’s making for dinner. When he’s in class she does the same thing. Hints of the color of her lingerie or the curve of her ass.

They’re never in class at the same time. Rey always has classes in the late afternoons, stretching into evenings since she works earlier in the day at a coffee shop and Ben always has his classes earlier in the mornings since he works the later shifts at the bookstore. 

They meet at night. Switching off between apartments. Rey likes Ben’s better since he lives alone and they can walk around freely without the worry of a stray roommate finding or walking in on them. Ben really doesn’t care where they are as long as he falls asleep with her pressed into him. 

It’s Rey’s idea to come to the library tonight. They had been just studying at home, spread out on the floor of Ben’s apartment, papers everywhere and empty cups of coffee laid out among thrown pieces of clothing. The problem with studying, mostly at Ben’s, is that they always found themselves tangled with each other and Rey laying down on the plush shag carpet or deep into the couch as Ben thrusts into her, sometimes slowly, sometimes erratically. 

It’s the perfect and worst way to procrastinate. 

Usually, it ends in Rey groaning about how she needs to study as Ben softens inside of her with a sympathetic nod of his head, brushing her hair out of her face so he can kiss her cheeks. 

Finals are basically over for most so there aren’t too many people in the library when they get there. 

Both Rey and Ben still have one more final. Just one more and they’re free for the rest of the semester. They step into the library and they’re greeted with a wave of heat right in their faces, causing them to already start stripping off the layers and layers of warm clothing to battle the bitter cold outside. 

Rey looks over at Ben, the tops of his cheeks and his ears are pink from the chill. He smiles and she smiles back as she unravels her scarf from around her neck. 

They stop at the cafe first. Both order a very large coffee, the first of many, to help them sit here all day. Rey shakes her backpack, lifting it more over her shoulder. She stuffed it with snacks to go along with her books. 

Sipping their coffees, they make their way down the hidden stairwell behind the cafe to find the spot that both of them like. It’s a little corner with two big armchairs and a coffee table, hidden behind stacks and stacks of books and shelves that no one touches or has touched in years. THe lights are so dull and they’re motion activated so there have been several times Rey has had to jump up and down when the lights go off on her. 

Rey found this spot her freshman year. She hates the designated quiet room. Something about being told she  _ has  _ to be quiet doesn’t sit well with her. Or the fact that you can hear every little sound that’s made in there like the squeaking of her shoe or the little grumble of her stomach when she’s hungry. She doesn’t care that no one in there is paying attention and has their headphones on; she still doesn’t like it. 

Ben also found this spot his freshman year. Being a few years ahead of Rey, and in grad school, technically he found it first and he won’t let her forget it. 

They run when they first see the arm chairs- both of them want the chair by the window. Ben gets to the chair first and sits down with a smug and satisfied look on his face while Rey just stares down at him and pouts playfully. 

“You know,” she says, walking to the other chair, “I was going to let you eat me out later if we got  _ all  _ of our work done, but now, maybe not.” She plops down in the chair opposite of him and sticks her feet up on the coffee table. She kicked off her shoes and she’s just in her thick hiking socks. She can just about reach Ben’s leg, if she tries hard enough she can rub her foot along his knee. 

Ben stares at her face in the chair, shaking his head back and forth while licking his bottom lip. His lips are glistening from how much he’s licked it. He’s really thinking. Thinking hard. Probably thinking more about this, giving up the chair in favor of eating her out later, than he is about his finals. 

“You won’t let me eat you out if I don’t give up the chair?” 

She nods, chin up high. 

“Sweetheart,” he leans over his knees, grabbing her feet in his hands, rubbing the arch in her foot with his thumbs, “I know you’re going to let me eat that pretty pussy whenever I want, so that’s not going to work.” Then he lets go of her feet, dropping them, as he grabs his laptop, puts his headphones in, and starts working. 

Now Rey’s really pouting and Ben isn’t paying attention. She pulls out her own laptop and headphones and starts studying. 

__________

It’s been hours and Rey is sick of looking at slides of art from the Rococo period. All the pink and frosting looking walls and debauchery. 

She wants to take place in some debauchery. 

All of this debauched art is making her horny. Horny to be fucked in a dress on a plush bed with ornate detail. Maybe outside against a tree in grass that’s fluffy and green.

She stares at Fragonard’s  _ The Swing,  _ 1767.

_ “In the history of painting,  _ [ _ Jean-Honoré Fragonard _ ](https://www.artsy.net/artist/jean-honore-fragonard) _ ’s The Swing (1767) is unmatched in its frivolity and over-the-top romance. At the center of the work, a young woman clothed in a billowing, ruffled, ballet-pink dress floats in a dramatically lit clearing, rocking above the ground on a crimson-cushioned swing. She flings her kitten-heeled shoe towards a mischievous cupid sculpture while she gazes at the man sprawled in the bushes beneath her. Her paramour wears a pewter-hued suit, extends a black tricorne hat into the brush, and looks up the woman’s skirt with what can only be described as the goofiest, most love-struck grin possible.” _

Rey looks down at her own dress. She’ll pretend it’s ballet pink, like the woman in the painting. She’s already kicked off her shoes. Ben is the man in the bushes, looking up her skirt. She sinks lower into the chair, spreading her legs just a bit.

Her tights are so opaque. He should see her lack of underwear. She wants him to. 

So she sits there, back twists and folded over in almost the seat of the chair, her legs spread wide open, her dress creeping up over her thighs and spilling over. She can smell her own arousal already sticking to the nylon covering her cunt. 

Ben looks so cute with that look of determined concentration on his face. His eyes narrowed and his face illuminated by the brightness of the screen. He bites his pen in the corner of his mouth before jotting notes down in his notebook. Too bad she wants to distract him. Too bad she wants to debauch him. 

He doesn’t even look. Doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t even take a peek up from his laptop. His eyes stay focused reading whatever it is he’s reading.

_ Boo,  _ Rey purses out her bottom lip. 

She huffs out a breath. She needs to do something else. 

The corners of her lips curl up like the Cheshire Cat. 

She has an idea. 

She shuts her legs closed and stands up, right in front of Ben. He still doesn’t notice her. Now she's mad. She leans over, peering at his screen, he’s staring at an open document but it’s empty. It says at the top that he opened it minutes ago. When she sunk lower into the chair and spread her legs. 

He noticed her, he was just pretending not to. She can see his leg slightly shaking under his laptop. She looks at him. His lips are parted, letting out a little breath but also not breathing at the same time. He’s waiting to see what she’s going to do. 

She grabs his laptop and places it on the table and then she climbs onto his lap. She takes a moment to settle and make herself comfortable, rubbing her nylon clad cunt on the crotch of his jeans. The denim hits  _ just  _ right. 

He doesn’t move his hands at first. They stay still on the arms of the chair as she places herself on top of him. 

_ “Rey,”  _ he says as she squirms in his lap. She can feel him getting hard under her. He was already a little hard, probably from the way she was putting herself on display for him minutes ago. 

“Are you going to put your hands on me or what, Ben Solo?” She stills as he quickly moves his hands to her hips. His thumbs dig into her hip bone even through the thick fabric of the sweater that’s on top of her dress. 

But it’s still only the lightest of touches. He’s still not  _ touching  _ her the way she wants. She needs him to touch her. She’s squirming again, looking for that friction in his jeans against her cunt if he’s not going to touch her. 

“You’re so desperate for my cock you want me to fuck you right here in the library?”

_ “Please,”  _ she begs. 

“You won’t let me eat you out later but you want me to fuck you out in the open?”

She doesn’t move, her eyes are pleading. 

“You want everyone to see you ride me, huh? You like that? People watching me fuck you?”

She nods. 

“You want people to see how you come undone around me?” His fingers dig deeper into her hips. Maybe it’ll bruise. She hopes so. She loves it when he does that.

The air is caught at the top of her throat. She tries to take a deep breath but it just keeps getting stuck. 

She thought she was horny and desperate before, but now, with the way Ben’s talking, she’s aching even more. 

It’s like something inside of him switched. One second, he was distracted and studying and the next he’s gripping her hard in his lap and saying these things with his breath hot on her neck. 

She loves it when he’s like this. She feels herself get even wetter at just the thought of how he is when he’s so demanding. If she’s being honest, there’s no Ben Solo she doesn’t love- especially when he’s fucking her. She loves it when he fucks her slowly in the morning when they both wake up, her back pressed against his chest as he pumps into her, breathing in her ear with her head back resting on his shoulder. She loves it when he fucks her hard and quick, racing each other to see who’s going to hit their peak first. 

And she loves it just like this, with her on top. She knows he loves it too. Despite his words and how controlling they are, asking her if she wants people to watch as she bounces on his cock, she’s the one in charge here. She’s the one on top. She’s the one who’s really going to decide how this is going to go. 

And she decides that he’s going to fuck her right here in the library behind the abandoned stacks. 

She reaches down to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans. He moves his hands out of the way, throwing them up in a surrender, letting her do her work. 

His cock is so hard in his jeans when she grabs him. She feels precome leaking from the tip and swipes it with her thumb, pulling her hands out of his pants, and shoving her thumb into her mouth to taste him. 

She hears him let out a low and breathy  _ fuck  _ at the sight of her lips around her thumb, licking what was on his cock. He loves it when she sucks his cock. The way she strains her jaw and he hits the back of her throat with how thick he is. Maybe she’ll do that later when he’s in front of the bathroom vanity brushing his teeth before bed. Right now, she needs him inside of her. 

With his cock back in her hand, she pumps slowly a few times, keeping eye contact with him. His eyes are dark but desperate. Maybe more desperate than she is. 

He looks down to cunt covered in her tights. The opaque black material is soaked and there’s a visible wet mark on her cunt. Ben runs his fingers up and down the wet patch, collecting some of the wetness that’s seeped through the thin tights. 

“You want me to pull these down, sweetheart,” he looks at her, “or do you want me to rip them?”

“Just fucking rip them, Ben.” 

The sound of her tights ripping is suddenly the loudest noise in the room. She feels it echo against the shelves. It’s louder than the way she’s been whimpering on his lap or the way he’s swearing in her ear. 

She lifts her hips off of him slightly, regretting the leg workout she did yesterday since she can feel the inside of her thighs burn as she moves, and she lines him up with her entrance. 

The tip of his cock rubbing against her makes both of them shudder. Like that feeling after you take a shot and the way the alcohol runs quickly through your bloodstream. 

Then she lowers herself on top of him, slowly at first, just testing the waters, watching his face try to stay placid, and then she fully impales herself on his lap, moaning openly into the stale library air as she does. 

She’s looking down at him, seated so warmly on his cock. 

She strokes his brow and she tucks a piece of stray hair behind his ear. Then she kisses him, just a peck, just enough to wet his lips. He starts to move his hips up into her but she plants himself down onto him more. 

“No,” she whispers against his lips, “you’re not going to fuck me just yet.” Then she takes a hand off of his head and grabs his laptop where she put it on the table. “You’re going to finish studying and I’m going to sit here and warm your thick cock like a good girl.”

_____________

So she sits there on his lap as he works. She can see a bit of sweat forming on his hairline. Sometimes she’ll roll her hips, feeling his still hard cock fuck into her deeper. But then she’ll stop and look at him with a little smirk. He looks back at her with a little scowl and a snarl of his top lip. 

_ “Please,”  _ now he’s begging. 

“Are you almost done?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Then no, I don’t think you can fuck me, yet.” She raises the tone of her voice, sounding as innocent as she possibly can. 

She looks at his screen. He just needs to write a conclusion. She turns back and grabs his chin in her hands, “Finish your essay and then you can fuck me as hard as you want.”

His cock is still hard inside of her. She feels him hit the right spots as she wiggles just a little. She’s growing wetter and wetter. She’s probably dripping onto his pants by now, staining the dark jeans. 

She fights the urge to reach down and stroke her clit. Part of her wants to. Part of her wants to make herself come on his cock while he has to sit there and watch her. But that’s too cruel. She can’t do that to him. Not when she knows how bad he needs her. 

_ Maybe another time.  _

She’s never seen him type so fast. His fingers move from key to key a mile a minute. She wonders if anything he’s even writing is coherent. He’ll look at it later. He’s writing about Romantic poets. Byron, Keats, Shelley. 

Solo. 

He writes her poems sometimes. He’ll leave them on her nightstand when he has to leave before her in the morning. Or on the bathroom mirror in dry erase marker. Once she got in her car to find one stashed in her glove box. 

He says all the poems he writes are about her. She’s his muse. Late at night sometimes, she’ll lay there, wrapped up in her white worn out cotton sheets while he sits at the other end of the bed with a leather bound notebook in hand. He writes and looks up at her, he writes and looks up at her. It’s like that scene in  _ Titanic  _ where Jack draws Rose naked and she calls him out for blushing. Rey always sees Ben blush despite the dark wanton heat in his eyes. 

He finishes his essay while she’s still in thought. In one swift movement, he puts his laptop back on the table and then thrusts up into her. 

She grabs his shoulders for purchase. She wasn’t expecting that. Her thoughts had been scattered about among the bookshelves, thinking about naked Kate Winslet and a scarlet Leonardo DiCaprio, and her Ben, writing little love poems about her, that she didn’t notice he finished and he’s going to fuck her now. 

Then she starts to move. She rolls and rolls and rolls. Moving her hips in a steady but haughty rhythm. He stops his thrusting and lets her take over. 

_ Good boy.  _

“Good girl,” he whispers, part of her forgets that they’re in public, “you look so  _ sexy _ riding my cock like this.”

“Mhmm.” She’s been waiting for this since she sat on his lap. 

“You love it, you love riding me, don’t you.” 

She nods. 

“Say it.” 

Nodding wasn’t enough. 

“I love riding your big cock.” Her voice is already strained like when she’s going to come. She’s so close already from sitting on top of him. 

He can feel it. She knows he’s close already too. They’ve both been sitting on the edge for so long,  _ too long.  _ They’re both desperate to come. He snakes his hand between them, his thumb starts to move circles on her clit and she throws her head forward, muffling the sounds in his neck. 

She continues to ride him, moving at a bit of a quicker pace now. He turns his head slightly so that his lips line up with her ear and his thumb is still lazing over her clit. “Are you going to come for me like a good girl? I want you to come on my cock, baby, please?” She shudders with that please, the popping of the p sending a shot of static down her spine. 

And he keeps repeating it.  _ Please please please please. Please, baby.  _

_ “Yes yes yes,”  _ she says into his shoulder.  _ Beg me beg me beg me. Make me come.  _

She comes with her eyes closed and her face buried in his shoulder. She tries not to cry out, they are in public after all. But the warmth she feels all over her body makes her forget that for a moment. 

When she lifts her head up, she feels him come inside of her, soaking her inside with hot cum. She smiles down at him. His hands on her hips feel so good. He holds her in places when he comes. She’s not allowed to move. 

“ _ Oh, Rey, Rey, Rey, Rey,”  _ he says low, chasing those little aftershocks, making her tremble in his touch. 

She places her forehead on his. Both a little sticky from sweat. His nose hits hers. They brush them up against each other for a moment. A little kiss, a little touch. 

“Maybe,” Ben speaks after a moment, “we should go home and I won’t eat you out like you said.”

She laughs. “Well, I did end up sitting in this seat after all so I think it’s safe to say you can eat me out as soon as we get home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where that quote about [ "the swing" ](https://www.artsy.net/series/stories-10-art-historys-iconic-works/artsy-editorial-undressing-erotic-symbolism-the-swing-fragonards-decadent-masterpiece) is from


	3. the art museum

She begs him to take her to the museum. Neither of them have work today so the night before, while they had been laying in bed, she had stuck out her bottom lip and given him puppy eyes, crawling down his body, his cock in her small hands, promising to suck him off if he took her. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to blow me just to get me to take you to the museum.”

“Maybe I just want to end my night gagging on you before I fall asleep with a sore throat.”

They take the subway. They stand in the crowded car, Ben has his hand wrapped around the bar on the ceiling, holding Rey in his other hand, and she holds onto his chest. His hand is in the back pocket of her jeans, his palm keeping her ass warm and holding her steady. 

The sound of people chattering in the train is drowned out by the grinding of metal underneath them. Their ears pop while they’re underground. Rey swallows, making them pop more. She looks up at him and he’s gazing over her head. She runs a finger over the line of his throat and the bulge of his Adam’s apple. That’s when he looks down and smiles. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

They really can’t hear each other speak but her hand is still over his throat and she feels his vocal chords under her finger tips. 

The train comes to a stop and Rey jerks forward, firmly planting her feet on the dirty ground, and Ben tightens his grip around her waist. She looks behind her, watches people get off—a lot of people get off—and then she turns back to Ben, kisses his lips so lightly that it’s almost like a swift feather, and she nuzzles her head into his chest before their stop.

____

Rey stares at the art before her. A woman bent over at the waist, knees buckled, naked in a shallow bathtub, washing herself. A view from behind, her gorgeous back drawn in pastel blue and pink and white. The viewer sees what her lover would see — the curve of her round ass up in the air, the swell of her breasts under her forearm that rests on her knees, the slope of her back where she bends to towel dry. 

No face, no emotions, just an everyday simple task that’s made poetic by the lines of a human body. Her hair falls, cascading down her body over the little tub full of water. She pushes a wash cloth around in the water — soaking everything up, getting ready to bathe herself. 

“Is that what I look like?”

“Like what?” Ben asks as he turns around. He had his back to Rey, facing the paintings on the other side of the wall while she stands with her head cocked and her lips wet, thinking. 

“Like _that,”_ she emphasizes, pointing to the woman in pastels. “Do you like to watch me as I wash myself like that? Instead of a washcloth I have my soapy loofa, spreading it across my body under the shower head.” She leans in closer as she speaks, letting her breath hit the side of his neck, right at that vein there. 

They’d had sex this morning already. Ben woke her up with his head between her thighs and his tongue lapping up her arousal. Then he fucked her lazily while the dull sun started to creep in through the windows that were sans curtains since she forgot to draw them the night before. They laid down on their sides on the bed; he was behind her, bucking up into her. Her head fell back into the groove of his shoulder and his hands played with her breasts so sweetly. The only sounds heard in the apartment were the birds starting to chirp outside, the low buzz of the coffee pot ready to brew on time, and their deep moans getting caught in the morning air. 

Even though they’d already fucked this morning, Rey needs him again. She needs him now. The drawing isn't helping. She thinks about bathing like that, her ass up in the air, and Ben coming up behind her, grabbing her hips and already easing himself into her with one swell push because she’s already so wet for him. 

She crosses her legs; she’s aching and doesn’t know if she’ll be able to make it home before she jumps him, and her left foot hits Ben’s. He turns and blinks down at her. 

“You help me sometimes, don’t you? You like to take the loofa and rub it over me, watching the suds bubble on my tits and run down my stomach over my _cunt.”_ She whispered that last word in his ear overemphasizing the ‘ _t_ ’ with a bite of her teeth. She could see him swallow. 

Ben’s hand moves to the small of Rey’s back, lingering for a moment, rubbing little shapes, before moving to rest on the side of her hip. She can feel the heat of his hands through the thin fabric of her thin t-shirt. 

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he stares. He stares and thinks. Rey doesn’t mind because of the way his body is pressed against her and the way his hand cups her side. He squeezes just a little. It doesn’t help. He squeezes like he does when he’s about to fuck her, when he’s about to push his cock inside of her. She clenches. 

“Hmm,” he says, breaking the quiet between them. The rest of the room is boisterous. A little too boisterous for her liking on a Wednesday afternoon. But between them, she gives him silence to think, ready for whatever he’s going to say. 

“Actually,” he moves his face down, closer to her. She feels his lips move against her hair at the top of her head. Sometimes he likes to kiss her there when he says good night or after he comes inside her. “You don’t look like that.”

Rey snaps her head to look up at him and she hits his nose as she does it. “I don’t?”

“Nah, you’re sexier.” He smirks and she opens her mouth. His eyes look at her, ready to go on, and her eyes look at him, urging her to. That ache for him is only growing by the second that she looks at him. 

He pulls her in closer so that she’s standing in front of him—her back pressed up against his front. Ben wraps his arms around her shoulders, hugging her tight. His head and lips move to the side by her ear covered by her loose hair. She shakes when she feels his lips there at first. A little shimmy from the sensation of his touch feels like so much right now, especially when she’s so on edge, ready for him to make it all better. 

“I like when you leave the bathroom door open when you shower and I lay on the bed, watching you step out with the water dripping down, in between your perfect tits.” His hand moves slightly and _squeezes_ one of her tits. She gasps and then looks around the gallery — they’re all alone now — before pushing herself closer into him. She can feel him pressing up against her ass. He’s getting hard. There’s a growing bulge at the front of his jeans, starting to press against the zipper. 

She’s going to get what she wants. She smiles and bites her lip, squirming her ass into him just a _little_ more. 

“You know I do that on purpose?” She asks, she whispers even though she doesn’t need to — no one else can hear her. “I want you to watch me.”

“Oh baby, I love watching you dry yourself off. Sometimes, I want to go in there and grab the towel from you and dry you off myself. Or, bend you over the sink and fuck you from behind. I bet you’d like that, right, sweetheart?”

“Mhmm,” She blinks slowly and grinds her hips into him. He has one hand on her waist and the other squeezes her tits—moving back and forth between the two of them, molding them in his big hands. Her hands have hovered over his. She moves with his hand as he squeezes her and feels her. She’s moaning but biting her tongue to keep it quiet. 

He doesn’t notice when she snakes her hand down, behind her back, and in between them, and grabs his hardening cock. She palms him through his jeans and he inhales suddenly at the contact. He wasn’t expecting that. She loves it. She loves surprising him. It only makes her rub against him even more and he grips her tits and waist even harder. 

If anyone walked into the gallery right now, they’d really be in for quite a show. Rey’s writhing in front of Ben, with one hand holding his cock, while he holds her tight in his grip and kisses her neck. She closes her eyes for a moment, letting herself pretend that maybe they’re at his apartment. That they’re not out in the middle of a fucking art gallery. 

She opens her eyes when he grabs her wrist and starts to pull her towards the archway connecting the rooms. He’s nearly running out of the museum. 

“Ben, Ben, _wait_ ,” she’s out of breath from him pulling her so suddenly. She stops him in the middle of the hallway. 

“Baby,” he steps closer, his eyes are deep and dark. She looks down, the bulge in his jeans is bigger than it was only minutes ago in the gallery. She can hear little murmurs of people around them; they’re not alone anymore. But then she sees something. Something she could use to her advantage right now, a sanctuary in her time of need. “I need to get you home.”

She nods, “But that’ll take so long and I need to take care of this now I think. _I need you now_.” She grabs his cock again and once again, he’s not expecting it. 

“ _Rey,”_ his voice is so low. 

The beauty of being out in public is that even though there are people around, no one ever really notices what others are doing. Sure, people love to people watch, but this is different. She could probably take her bra off in the middle of this museum right now and no one would notice. Everyone is so wrapped up in their own little worlds, running from gallery to gallery, looking down at the map to see what room houses the Van Gogh portrait, that they don’t notice a woman grab her tall boyfriend’s cock in the middle of the hallway. 

“You like it when I grab your big cock in public, huh?”

His jaw is clenched tight. She knows he loves it but he won’t admit it. 

“We can’t.”

“Yes we can.”

“We’re in a fucking hallway.”

“I have somewhere we can go.” 

Now she’s the one pulling him. She pulls him towards a closed door with a sign on it that says the gallery is off limits. Off limits means empty, empty means he can fuck her. 

When they step inside, there’s a slight echo of their footsteps and the sounds of their bodies on each other. She grabs him and pulls him close as soon as they enter the room. 

His lips are so hot on hers. _Burning, burning, burning_. His wet tongue moves along the slit of her mouth and she lets him in. 

“You’re so desperate for my cock, you want me to fuck you in public so bad, that you found an abandoned gallery?” His voice is breathy.

She nods against his lips, she doesn’t want to let go. She wants to keep kissing him so earnestly until they leave the room with bright purple lips. 

He looks around the room when they part. There are sheets draped everywhere; those tall yellow metal construction towers with two by fours and white buckets full of paint. There’s a few benches in there— the benches that are in the middle of the gallery for people to sit on while they admire the art. Ben walks over to the one in the very middle of the room and takes a seat and waits for Rey to join him.

She goes to sit down next to him but he stops her with his hand on her wrist, pulling her back to stand in front of him. 

He moves his hand from her wrist, rubbing it with his thumb, down to her hand so he can hold it. He looks up at her and nods and she knows what he’s telling her to do: _Sit on my lap, baby._

Her little pink tongue darts out, licking her lips that are already dry. She moves over to him, placing one knee on either side of his hips so that she’s straddling him. 

She doesn’t put her hands on his chest or his shoulders. Instead, she puts them on the bench, gripping onto the wood, her nails digging in, probably creating little crescents in the hard surface. 

“What a terrible shame,” he looks down, biting his bottom lip and shaking his head, “you wore jeans today, sweetheart.”

_Fuck,_ she hadn’t thought about that. 

When she got dressed this morning, she didn’t prepare to ride Ben in the middle of the day in the museum. Well, now that she thinks about it, every other time they’ve fucked in public she hadn’t really prepared for that either, she just happened to be wearing a dress that he could lift up over her hips and slip his dick into her. 

She shifts her hips. The seam hits _just_ right. She lets out a short moan. She smiles and moves her hands around his neck, locking her fingers. 

“I’m not fucking you until we get home,” he says and she knows that, she’s okay with it. She has another idea. 

“That’s okay, I just had to wear jeans today.”

“Should’ve worn one of those little skirts you always wear, you know, the one with all the pleats.”

“A tennis skirt? You’re right, I should’ve worn one. Maybe with no underwear so then I could’ve easily rode your cock right on this bench.” She leans forward and kisses his jaw. He doesn’t notice that she’s started to move her hips slowly. The seam of her jeans and the way the hard bulge at the front of his jeans are causing the most delicious friction that she can’t get enough of. 

She nips at his skin, peppering around his face, skimming the surface with little superficial bites. She moves up to the shell of his ear, sticking her tongue out and licking him softly but eagerly. 

His hands are tight around her ass, holding each cheek in a palm. He moves his hands, squeezing and molding her cheeks like he did earlier to her tits. She keeps grinding on him, so slowly it’s almost killing her. She needs _more._ She needs to go _harder._

Then he notices. His hands stop and he plants them firmly on her hips, his big thumb is right in the little crease. He stops her movements. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“ _Please,”_ she pleads. 

“You’re going to get yourself off on my thigh?”

She nods, her breathing coming in hot against his chin. She’s holding onto him hard. His face is in her hands now, his freckled skin moving under her touch. She’s trying so hard not to move her hips. If she does, she knows he may not let her do anything. He may punish her— not that she doesn’t like being punished, but she needs him to get her off right _now._

She sounds like Veruca from _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. “I want it_ nooooowwwww.” Begging and begging and begging. 

Ben looks at her. His hands are tight on her hips, holding her down so that the seam of her jeans is hitting too nicely and the bulge in his just sits there under her, taunting. 

Maybe she can move her hips _just a little;_ just enough to start to get herself off. 

No. He’ll definitely notice. 

She tries it anyway. 

She flexes her hips, pushing her pelvis back and her ass out— _slowly, slowly_. 

He’s still looking at her, eyes trained and stuck on her lips. One of his hands moves to her jaw, cupping her face in his hand. She loves how her face fits so perfectly in his palm like that. She feels so small under him even though she’s the one on top of him right now. 

She’s so focused on grinding down onto him so slowly that she isn’t able to stop the little moan that escapes her mouth. She stops. His eyes grow darker. He squeezes her cheeks and his pointer finger sneaks in between her opened lips. With his finger inside of her mouth, she sucks on it, licking him as if it were his cock in her mouth. _Fuck,_ she wishes it was. 

Maybe later…

She starts to move back, letting her tongue slide out, but he pushes it back in and holds her there. 

She’s panting and slobbering. 

“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of riding my cock in the middle of the museum right now,” he tells her and she sighs, feeling slightly defeated, “but,” then she puffs out her chest again, _but, but, but_ , “I’ll give you the next five minutes to get yourself off just like this on my lap. If not, you’re getting punished when we get home.”

She groans. 

“Can you be a good girl and make yourself come on my lap?”

She doesn’t even acknowledge him, she just starts moving her hips as much as she can. His finger is still in her mouth as she grinds down. She’s _aching_ for him, for _this._

Part of her knows that the orgasm isn’t going to feel as good as the ones he gives her with his fingers or his mouth or his cock. But she needs it so badly. 

She buries her head in his neck when he takes his finger out of her mouth but he picks her up right away. 

“I want to see your face as you rub yourself all over me.”

She lets out a deep, breathy sob. Her body feels like it’s covered in TV static — it doesn’t even make any goddamned sense but that’s what it feels like. Like that feeling in your throat when you drink sparkling water. Little, little tingles setting off all over her skin. Each nerve ending all fizzles and sparks. 

She’s already close, _so, so close_. 

Ben holds the back of her neck, holding her head up to look right at him. They’re breathing into each other. Her breath is short and huffy. His mouth is open, parted just a little. She can see his tongue and the ends of his slightly crooked teeth. 

She leans forward and kisses him, biting his lip. His lips, his lips. _God_ , she loves his lips. So plump and red. Perfect to kiss her everywhere. 

But he’s not kissing her back right now. He’s letting her do everything. She’s desperately grinding herself down on his thigh, moving her hips so frantically, while she slobbers on his mouth and jaw and he just holds her there. 

She’s frustrated— but somehow it turns her on more, sending a little wave of feeling all through her body. 

“Are you going to kiss me back or what?” 

“I told you, sweetheart, I want to _watch_ you rub yourself all over me until you come on my thigh like this.” 

She hates him. But she loves him so. 

_“Beennnnn,”_ she whines. 

“Be a good girl, baby,” his voice is deep and low and almost sincere against her lips, “come for me, come on my thigh, baby.”

Her hands creep along his neck and into his hair, gripping hard. He throws his head back and it falls over the back of the bench and Rey leans forward, her face hovering over his. 

_Baby baby baby baby come for me._

She comes with him whispering in her ear. The cool and stale air in the closed gallery makes the exposed skin on her arms rise into goosebumps as she bites into her bottom lip feeling the rush move through her from her core. 

She tries not to moan too loud so instead it comes out in half broken whimpers. 

Ben talks her through it. _Such a good girl, my beautiful good, good girl,_ he says as he holds her close to his body. One hand plays with her hair, tucking strands behind her ear, and the other moves under her t-shirt and rubs small circles on the small of her back on her hot but cold skin. 

When she opens her eyes, Ben’s golden eyes are staring back at her. “You did so good, sweetheart.” 

She doesn’t have the energy to respond. Somehow that took it all out of her. But then he grabs her hips and makes her stand up on wobbly, post-orgasm legs, and she grabs a hold of his arms for purchase. 

“We need to get home.” He says and she looks down at the noticeable bulge in his crotch. She smiles to herself and looks back up at him with hazy eyes. “It really is such a shame that you wore jeans today. What do you think we should do about it when we get home?” 

“Whatever you want to do to me,” she mumbles. Then she grabs his cock through his jeans. “But don’t you think we should do something about this first?”

Ben raises his eyebrow and sits back down on the bench with his arms spread across the back. “Maybe we should. I’m still going to punish you when we get home.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She smirks and moves down to her knees with her hands on his thighs, licking her lips, ready to take all of him in her mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [ twitter](https://twitter.com/darthpeachy) :)


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